THE FÜHRER'S DAUGHTER

THE FÜHRER'S DAUGHTER (Episode 2) - Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

HANS DREXLER SAT IN HIS OFFICE one hand holding his head, the other on a flask of Obstwasser. He took a long, bitter pull and winced. Pausing only to wipe away a tear, he downed another swig. With a grunt, he kicked the desk, slammed the flask down, and grabbed the picture frame that held a photo of his family.

Why did you have to be so foolish? It didn’t have to be this way.

The first time he met Sophie had been at a state sponsored ball. She attended as the guest of Dirk von Ritter, his best friend. Had Dirk actually danced with her that night, Hans and Sophie might have never fallen in love.

“Look at her, sitting all alone,” Drexler’s date said as she nodded toward Sophie. “It’s poor form to invite a girl to the ball and not dance with her.” She pushed him toward Sophie. “Now, go on. At least let her have a little bit of fun.”

Hans Drexler ambled toward Sophie who gazed past him toward the dance floor. “It seems you’ve no partner,” he said. “May I remedy that?”

She snapped out of her trance and looked up. “I’m sorry. Were you speaking to me?”

He sat down beside her. “I was wondering if you would like to dance with me. It appears your date prefers brandy to beautiful women.”

“Dirk warned me about you.”

“Oh?”

“He told me you might try to sweep me off my feet, and to beware of your unwanted advances.”

“Are they unwanted?”

“How well do you dance?”

Twelve minutes later, having waltzed to such masterpieces of Johann Strauss as The Emperor, You and You from Die Fledermaus, and of course, The Blue Danube, Hans stopped to look for his date.

Gone.

And so was Dirk.

That scoundrel!

With a resigned sigh, which quickly transformed into playful determination to defeat Dirk at his own ruse, Hans smiled down at Sophie. “Shall we continue?”

They went on dancing for another hour…

 

#

Why, Sophie?

While every guard and soldier available was out trying to retrieve Grace, Drexler could only sit there, reeling from the shock and bewilderment.

In one night, he had lost his wife and his daughter. But as much as it pained him, he still had a nation to rule, and an empire to help sustain. There would be time later to ponder the sum of his actions, his decisions.

One of his staff attendants rapped on the door, snapping him out of his thoughts. She poked her head into the office. “Schroeder is here, mein Führer.”

Drexler stood and wiped his eyes, erasing any hint of his emotional state.

The attendant swung the door open.

In marched the Director of the SS for the Aryan States of America. Although Schroeder led the Führer’s personal protection, investigative and interrogation division, he reported directly to Klaus Hitler, the Kaiser.

Pulling on the tip of each individual finger, Schroeder removed his black leather gloves. He turned and nodded at the attendant, who inclined her head, then shut the door behind her as she left.